When the Wind Blows (23 page)

Jeff frowned. “What about Miss Edna? Will she be there, too?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Diana said carefully. “But I don’t think so. She doesn’t like that sort of thing.”

“Didn’t she even take you when you were a little girl?” Christie asked.

Diana smiled bitterly. “No. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t go. I’d tell her I was going riding, then I’d leave my horse somewhere and sneak off to the picnic by myself.”

The two children stared at her. Was it possible that she really had once done the same things they did themselves? They grinned at each other.

“Didn’t she ever find out?” Christie asked.

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

The smile faded from Diana’s lips, and her eyes clouded. “She told me never to disobey her again, or something terrible would happen.”

Now the childrens’ eyes rounded in anticipation. “Did you?” they whispered in unison.

Diana’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Only once.”

“What happened?” Jeff asked, his voice as low as Diana’s.

Diana paused, then looked at the children.

“Something … terrible,” she said. A tear suddenly welled in her left eye, and she hastened to wipe it away, then got to her feet. “Come on—it’s getting late.”

The children looked at each other and silently wondered what might have happened, but both of them knew that whatever it was, Diana wasn’t going to tell them.

It was one of those things, they were sure, that was on the list of things they were too young for.

As they began the long hike back the three of them fell silent, but as they neared the house Christie suddenly asked a question.

“Aunt Diana? What if Miss Edna doesn’t want us to go to the picnic?”

Diana hesitated only a moment, then reached over and patted Christie’s hand. “Then we’ll go without her.”

“But … won’t something terrible happen?”

Diana chuckled softly. “Don’t you worry, honey. That was all over with a long time ago. I grew up, remember?”

Christie turned the matter over in her mind. “But she’s still your mother, isn’t she?”

Now it was Diana who thought for a few moments before speaking. “Yes,” she said at last. “She is.”

   Edna Amber was waiting for them when they came in, and Diana immediately knew that there was going to be trouble.

“Jeff, I think you’d better go home,” she said. Edna stood in the dining-room door, her left hand holding her cane, and her right hand wrapped in a large bandage. Jeff, realizing what must have happened, began backing out the door.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow, Christie,” he said. Then, remembering his manners, he spoke to Diana. “Thanks for taking me hiking, Miss Diana.”

“You’re very welcome, Jeff,” Diana said, watching her mother as she spoke. “Come back any time.” As Edna’s eyes narrowed she repeated her last words. “Any time.”

Then Jeff was gone, and the two Amber women and Christie were alone.

“What happened, Mother?”

Edna’s cane came up and pointed at Christie, who cowered against Diana.

“That child!” Edna burst out. “Look what she’s done to me! Just look!”

She pulled off the bandage and held up her damaged hand. Diana recoiled from the sight of the bruised, swollen flesh.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What do you mean Christie did that to you? She wasn’t even here, Mother.”

“She didn’t have to be here,” Edna hissed. Her angry eyes fastened on Christie, she repeated what had happened. “A rattrap!” she finished. “A rattrap in the hen house!”

Diana turned to Christie.

“Did
you put a rattrap in the hen house?” she asked. Christie, her arms wrapped around Diana’s waist, nodded.

“It was Jeff’s idea,” she whispered, frantically groping in her mind for a reasonable explanation. “He said that rats like to eat the chicks.”

“It wasn’t set for a rat, and you know it!” Edna railed.

As rage contorted her mother’s face Diana searched for a way to protect Christie. “It was my fault,” she said at last. “I wasn’t watching what the children were doing, Mother. I was talking to Joyce.”

It worked. Edna’s furious eyes focused on Diana, and she emitted a crackling laugh. “You were talking to Joyce,” she mimicked. “And what was so important that you let the children run wild?”

“Mama—” Diana began, but Edna cut her off.

“Be quiet!” The old woman’s voice lashed out like a whip. “You shouldn’t have been talking to her at all! You’re an Amber, and don’t ever forget it!”

Diana’s control suddenly snapped. “How can I forget it?” she burst out. “How can I ever forget it, when you keep shoving it down my throat? Who cares?
Mother, who the hell cares about the Ambers anymore? What are we? We’re the people who made all the money off people dying, that’s who we are! It wasn’t coal that made us rich, Mother! It was people! All
I
can remember is that because of us, people died!”

Edna stepped back, shaken by the outburst. Then, her voice suddenly gentle, she spoke to Christie.

“Go upstairs, child. Go upstairs, and don’t come down until someone sends for you.”

Christie, stunned by what she had just heard, ran up the stairs.

In the nursery, she tried to block out the sound of the two women arguing, but it was impossible. First she heard Diana’s voice, shouting unintelligibly, and then Miss Edna, her voice softer, but somehow even more frightening.

Christie put her fingers in her ears, but still the sound penetrated. She lay down on the bed and put the pillow over her head. That did no good either.

As the argument raged on, two floors below her, she took off her clothes and got into her pajamas. She picked up the teddy bear that was propped up against the wall by the bed and went to the crib.

Being in the crib made her feel better, safer—as if in the tiny crib with its four fencelike walls, nothing could hurt her.

She lay very still, the bear cuddled against her chest, and tried to shut out the sounds that were filling the house.

Her mother.

She would think about her mother.

If only she were still a baby, her mother would still be with her, and none of this would be happening.

She slipped her thumb into her mouth and began sucking on it.

That, too, gave her a certain amount of comfort.

Above her, a limp paper bird swung slowly at the end of a string.

Dimly, in the far reaches of her mind, a memory stirred. When she was a baby, there had been a mobile of birds hanging above her crib.

She could remember watching it hour after hour, the birds soaring slowly in circles.

Christie drew her legs up tighter and pulled the teddy bear closer to her chest.

Watching the bird floating above her, she began to forget about the present.

Yes, things had been better long ago, when she was a baby.

Her mother had been with her then, and everything had been fine.

If only she were still a little baby.…

   Hours later, Diana crept into the nursery and looked down at the sleeping child.

“Christie?” she whispered.

Christie stirred in her sleep, and her thumb came out of her mouth.

Diana reached down and touched Christie’s hand.

The hand closed on her finger.

“Baby? Are you awake?”

Again Christie stirred, but this time her eyes opened slightly.

“Mama?” she asked softly.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Diana crooned. “It’s your mama.”

She picked Christie up and took her to the bed.

Cradling the sleepy child in her arms, she sat down and gently rocked her.

“Mama?” Christie’s eyes gazed up at her. “Mama, don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Diana whispered. “Your mama won’t ever leave you alone again.”

Still holding Christie in her arms, Diana stood up again and left the nursery. She went down the back stairs to the second floor and moved along the hall.

When she was in front of her mother’s room, she paused.

“Little girls never leave their mamas, do they?” she asked, facing the closed door. Then she answered her own question. “No, they never do. They stay with their mamas forever and ever, and they never grow up.”

She went on down the hall to her own room, slipped inside, and closed the door behind her.

“Their mamas don’t let them,” she whispered as she put Christie on her own bed and tucked the covers around the half-asleep child.

When she was done, she slipped into the bed, Christie nestled at her side.

A moment later she was sound asleep.

Down the hall, Edna Amber’s door opened, and she stared at the now empty hall.

Outside, she could hear the wind howling.

She knew that Diana had been in front of her door a moment ago, and that she had been speaking.

But what had she been saying?

The wind had drowned out her words.

15

“Jeff?”

Jeff Crowley looked up from his breakfast. His father had a strange expression on his face, an expression that was unfamiliar to Jeff, but that an older person would have recognized as quizzical.

“Did you have a good time out at the Ambers’ yesterday?”

Jeff bobbed his head. “It was really neat. Miss Diana took us up to the mine, and hiking, and we’re going to have a camp-out.”

“A camp-out?” Matt glanced uneasily at his wife, but Joyce seemed unconcerned. “Where?”

“There’s a bunch of trees, with a little spring in it, and a big rock.” Jeff scratched his head thoughtfully.

“I’m not exactly sure where it is.”

“But it’s on the Ambers’ property?”

“I guess so.” Jeff shrugged. “What does it matter?”

“What
does
it matter, Matt?” Joyce echoed. “Who all’s going to go?” she asked Jeff.

“Me and Christie, and any of the other kids that want to, I guess.”

“And Diana’s going with you?”

He wondered if he should tell them what had happened to Miss Diana at the mine. He decided not to. “Yeah,” Jeff said.

Matt noticed his son’s hesitation, but Joyce spoke before he could press Jeff further.

“What about the other kids?” she asked. “Will they go?”

“I can talk them into it,” Jeff said confidently. “I bet I can even talk Jay-Jay into it. I’ll tell her she’s chicken if she doesn’t go.”

Now Matt did interrupt. “You do, and I’ll have your hide.”

Jeff looked at his father, perplexed. “Why? Jay-Jay’s always doing that. Every time she thinks up something, and the rest of us don’t want to do it, she says
we’re
chicken.”

“Jay-Jay may do that, but that doesn’t make it right,” Joyce told her son. “Anyway, what could she think up that you or Steve or Eddie wouldn’t want to go along with?”

Suddenly Jeff was wary. He didn’t want to risk being a tattletale, and he was afraid his mother might call Jay-Jay’s. “I can’t remember,” he said, remembering the time Jay-Jay had suggested they throw rocks through Mrs. Berkey’s window. He got up from the table. “Can I go over to Steve’s?”

“Okay, but the next time Jay-Jay says you’re chicken, you just ignore her,” Joyce said.

When Jeff was gone, Matt looked uneasily at his wife.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” he asked.

“The camp-out? I think it’s a wonderful idea. It’ll be great for the kids, and good for Diana, too.”

“Do you think she can handle it?”

“Can anybody handle a bunch of kids on a campout?” Joyce countered, but Matt ignored her attempt at humor.

“She doesn’t know anything about kids. And don’t forget all the talk we’ve heard all these years.”

Joyce stood up and began clearing the table. “And that’s all it is—talk,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with Diana that getting out more won’t cure.”

“I’m not so sure,” Matt said. Then, seeing that Joyce was about to launch into a lecture, he slid his chair back from the table and glanced at his watch. “I’d better get going. I promised Phil Penrose I’d take a look at his roof today.” He smiled wryly. “From mine superintendent to handyman. Some life, huh?”

Joyce kissed her husband. “Something will turn up,” she told him. “It always does.”

When he was gone, Joyce poured herself another cup of coffee and sat down again. Perhaps, she thought, she should pay another call on Diana.

Just to make sure.

   Bill Henry hadn’t slept well.

All night he’d kept going over and over the strange story Edna Amber had told him, and by dawn had decided the only thing to do was talk to Diana. After breakfast, he dialed the Ambers’ number.

To his relief it was Diana who picked up the phone.

“It’s Bill,” he said.

“And a glorious good morning to you.”

Her tone reassured him, and Bill began to relax.

“I slept like a log last night,” she went on. “Motherhood appears to be good for me.”

As she spoke the last words Bill’s moment of ease evaporated and when he spoke again, his voice took on a serious tone. “Diana, could you have dinner with me tonight?”

There was a slight hesitation, then: “Can I bring Christie along?”

“I was hoping it could be just the two of us,” Bill replied. The last thing he wanted was to have someone else there.

“I don’t know.” Diana’s voice was pensive. “Christie’s pretty young to stay by herself.”